


Shall We Dance?

by themusicofmysoul



Category: Unsounded, Unsounded (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Lemuel Adelier/OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 07:33:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12907173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themusicofmysoul/pseuds/themusicofmysoul
Summary: Semon women don't have many options in life, so to have wormed her way into the revered Lions of Mercy, Addilyn Theron should be grateful.  To want for more than just the life of a soldier, even just the simple experience of a ghers gathering, would be to spit in the face of the good fortune Ssael had granted her.A girl can dream, though, can't she?





	Shall We Dance?

**Author's Note:**

> This was written thanks to the simple prompt a friend gave me: “BALLROOM DANCING any couple with ballroom dancing."
> 
> So, of course, I used Lemuel Adelier. The love of my life.
> 
> I also decided to throw my hat in the ring for the Unsounded fanworks contest with this. Might as well, eh? I've only been reading this comic for like five years.

The training grounds were always empty and still at this time of night.  Unless you had a patrol to report to, you wouldn’t even be caught dead anywhere near the sparring ring or the surrounding parade grounds.  Enough time was spent there running and sparring and drilling until you were emptying the contents of your stomach in the nearest collection of bushes, no one wanted to be there any more than necessary.

Which always made it the perfect spot for Addilyn Theron to do whatever she pleased.

“You look funny, Addie,”  Will Argenti sat on the old, splintering wooden fence that separated the sparring ring from the surrounding gravel laden paths, his nose scrunched up as he watched her.  “Without a partner, you look like one of those crazy people father is always chasing off the temple grounds.”

A loud snort escaped the semon woman, kicking up dirt as she stumbled slightly.  She muttered a curse, turning to the Silver boy with a frown.  “You made me lose count, Will.”

A devious grin split his features, his bright blue eyes twinkling in the dim lighting of the full moon.  “‘A good soldier should be able to block out all distractions.’  Or at least that’s what _you_ always say.”

Addilyn stuck her tongue out at the boy, earning her a light giggle.  “I’m not trying to be a soldier, wise guy.”  She took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders as she raised her arms, her back straight and her chin up.  Doing her best not to look down at her feet, she began to move, quietly counting off ‘ _one, two, three, and one, two, three…_ ’ over and over as she stepped to the simple beat.  Her feet stepped lightly—well, at least considering her military training—as she moved in a vaguely circular shape, her well-worn boots only slightly cumbersome as she went through the motions.  Her back began to ache as she struggled to keep it straight, her thighs trembling as she fought to keep her knees slightly bent, her arms burning with the effort to keep the pseudo-hold.

Apparently, her intense military training paled in comparison to whatever conditioning dancers went through.

With a huff, Addilyn dropped the hold, rolling her shoulders and neck in an attempt sooth the burning ache shooting through her muscles.  Her knees cracked as she straightened them, causing her to scowl.  The ladies at those ghers gatherings made it look so easy.

“You’re not allowed to yell at me for falling behind on runs anymore!”  Will laughed from behind her.

Addilyn narrowed her eyes at him, huffing loudly through her nose in annoyance.  “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed.  “Sure thing, Addie.”

She opened her mouth to offer a retort, but paused, the corners of her lips quirking upward slightly in a sly smile.  “You think you’re so tough and strong, little Will?   C’mon, give it a shot.”

Will merely laughed, shaking his head.  “Not on your life, Addie.”

“Sounds like someone’s not as tough as he says he is.”

He scrunched up his nose again.  “I am so.”

Addilyn waved him over.  “C’mon, then.  Besides, I need a partner to practice with.”

Will looked around nervously as he hopped off the fence, the old wooden beams creaking with the weight.  “If my father finds out…”

A frown crossed the Bronze’s features.  “He won’t.  Everyone’s either asleep in their barracks or getting shitfaced at a bar.  If anyone sees us, we’ll plant empty bottles of ale under their bunk.”

A sigh.  “Fine.”  He stomped over to her, his boots kicking up clouds of dirt in his wake, a scowl clearly etched into his features as he came to stand beside her.

“You know, if you keep making that face, your face could freeze that way forever,” she said, a wide grin in place.

Will merely rolled his eyes.  “Okay, _mom_.”  He crossed his arms over his chest, not so subtly glancing around them.  “So, now what?”

Addilyn hummed in thought, her hands on her hips.  “Okay, so I need you to stand straight—uncross your arms—with your chin up.  No, no like this.”

With the patience of a well-trained hound, Will allowed her to manipulate him into whatever position she needed, with little more than a grumbled complaint every now and then.  As she adjusted his arms into the proper position, he spoke up.  “Why are you doing this, anyway?”

The Bronze woman was thankful for the dim lighting in the courtyard as the heat in her cheeks flared.  “I never learned how.  I was a street rat growing up, didn’t get any of that proper ‘etiquette’ training most of the girls in other castes get, and then I went into the Council Army.  You don’t exactly get any tips on how to be a proper lady there.”

Will’s eyes softened, becoming a bit less resistant as she adjusted his shoulders.  “Why would you want to, though?  I thought you liked being a soldier.”

“I do.”  She walked behind him to straighten his back, grateful the young Silver couldn’t see her face.  “I just like to hope that one day I can maybe be both.  Be able to go break a Crescian’s neck on the battlefield, then come home in time to go out for a nice, formal ball in a fashionable gown.  Maybe even have a couple of suitors battling it out for the chance to dance with me.”  She paused, forcing a laugh as she came back around to stand in front of him.  “Silly, I know.”

Will’s brow furrowed, his scowl all but gone.  “No, it’s not.”

Silence fell across the training grounds as Addilyn examined the fruits of her labor, willing the tears welling up in her eyes to recede.  Of course it was silly.  She was lucky to have broken away from the hell her life should have been, becoming a soldier in the respected Lions of Mercy in a platoon of men who respected her and her skills.  Well, for the most part at least.

But, still, it was nice to dream.

“Okay!” she said, her voice cracking slightly.  “Just hold that position.  Now place this hand on my waist, and hold my hand with this one.”  Will visibly stiffened with the instructions, but complied nonetheless.  Addilyn smiled.  “Relax.  Okay, on my mark, I need you to step in time with me, alright?”

Will sighed.  “Is this gonna take long?”

Addilyn flicked his nose, eliciting a soft yelp from the boy.  “Quit your complaining.  We coulda been done already.  Okay, now.  Ready? And one, two, three… “

He was a bit clumsy, stumbling in the wrong direction a few times and stepping on her toes, but, honestly, wasn’t too bad.  He certainly served his purpose when it came to helping her get a better handle on how to stay in hold.  Having a partner really did help.

“That doesn’t look like the chokehold I taught you today, Theron.”

Will nearly knocked her to the ground with how fast he pulled away from her, his tan face tinged a deep red as he fell into a stiff salute.  Addilyn merely froze in place, her eyes wide as her pulse pumped loudly in her ears.

Leaning against the old, creaking wooden fence surrounding the sparring grounds was Captain Lemuel Adelier himself, his usual brown and green uniform replaced with a plain beige tunic, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and loose, black pants.

All accompanied by an infuriatingly sly smirk.

 _Shit_.

Lemuel’s golden gaze flicked between the two of them before it came to rest on poor Will, still frozen with his two middle fingers pressed to his brow in salute, his hands trembling slightly. The captain quirked an eyebrow, his smirk faltering, a flicker of pity shining in his eyes.  “Young Argenti, don’t you have a patrol in the morning, boy?  If you plan on being any use for it, you should probably be in your bunk.”

Will risked a glance at the captain, raising his head just enough to catch a glimpse of his face.  “A-Aye, sir!  Of course, sir!”  Will straightened, taking off at a brisk jog for the barracks, not once looking back toward Addilyn.

She narrowed her eyes at his retreating back. _Traitor._

A moment of silence passed before Addilyn allowed herself a bored sigh.  “Well, goodnight, sir.”

“Not so fast, Theron.”  Lemuel’s voice froze her mid-step, her hands curling into fists as she fought to keep her erratic heartbeat under control.  He pushed off the fence, striding toward her with all the bravado of soldier fresh out of a successful sparring session.  “What was all _that_ nonsense?”

Addilyn took in a deep, calming breath, filling her lungs with the cool night air before she turned to fully face her captain.  “Nothing at all, sir.  Just me and Argenti messing around.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me,” he said, coming to a stop directly before her, his self-satisfied smirk back to its full glory.  “You looked pretty serious about the whole thing.  Even practiced a bunch before you dragged poor young Will into it.”

Addilyn ground her teeth, forcing her face to remain that neutral mask she donned around her superiors as her cheeks glowed a bright pink. How long had he been watching?

Undoubtedly noticing the slight change in her complexion, Lemuel huffed a soft laugh.  “Oh, come now, Theron.  Don’t be like that.  It’s me, afterall.”

Her mask did not drop, but she did allow her taut muscles to loosen slightly, crossing her arms over her chest as she stood before him.  “I’m off duty now, sir, and I have no patrol in the morning.  Last I checked, I can do what I want with my free time.”

He rolled his eyes, reaching forward to grab at her forearm before dragging her toward the center of the sparring grounds.  “By Ssael, Theron, just because you’re the only woman under my command does not mean you have to be so _serious_ all the time.”  He looked back at her, a devious gleam to his eyes.  “And here I thought we were finally starting to form a solid camaraderie.”

The blush on her cheeks merely deepened to a rosy hue as she risked a smirk of her own.  “You never know who’s watching, sir.  Gotta stay on your toes.”

Lemuel barked out a laugh.  A true, sincere, rumbling laugh that she felt in the depths of her abdomen.  Damn him.

“ _That’s_ the Theron I know.”  He came to a stop, releasing his grip on her wrist.  “Learn to loosen up a bit.  How can we possibly have any fun if you insist on calling me ‘sir’ all the time?”

Addilyn stared up at him defiantly.  “What would you prefer, then?”

A rare, genuine smile graced his handsome features.  “My name would be a nice start.”

A flurry of butterflies kicked up a windstorm in her belly, allowing her own genuine smile to slip into place.  “I suppose we can give that a shot.”

“Good.”  He held out his hand to her expectantly.  She merely stared at it, confusion clearly written across her face.  “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“With all due respect, sir, what are you doing?”

“Lemuel.  And I’m waiting for you to take my hand.”  His hand remained extended, the calloused, scarred flesh strangely elegant in the pale moonlight.

“For what?” She continued to stare at his hand.  “A handshake or something?”

Lemuel sighed, reaching out to take her hand in his on his own.  “Do you want to learn to dance or not?”

Addilyn tried to rip herself from his grasp, but he held fast, his grip firm, but not at all painful.  “What?”

He pulled her toward him, hardly a hair's breadth remaining between them, as he placed his free hand on her waist.  This felt… different than it had with Will.  Far more intimate.  Too intimate.  The fact that Lemuel wasn’t grumbling under his breath was probably part of it, but, honestly, holding his golden gaze, his breath mingling with her own…

Ssael help her.

At this proximity, and not locked in a sparring session, she noticed how his scar stretched ever so slightly with every slight twitch in his face.  From the furrowing of his brow to the quirking of his lips, the scar shifted with each movement.  It was… an endearing trait.  For whatever reason. And his hands, though rough from over a decade in the military, were strangely gentle around her own, his thumb ever so slightly caressing her quickly warming skin.

_Oh, boy._

Lemuel cocked his head to the side, his unruly blond locks swaying slightly with the movement.  “Your hold is terrible.  It was better before with young Will.  And here I thought I had instilled at least _some_ semblance of discipline in you.”  His grin was wide and mocking.

Addilyn grit her teeth, straightening her back and shoulders as she lifted her chin, falling into the proper hold she had practiced so many times before on her own.  “Voyeurism isn’t very becoming of a gentlemen, _Lemuel_.”

A deep, resounding chuckle rumbled in his chest, his eyes slightly hooded as he gazed down at her.  “Then you’ll be relieved to hear I am anything but a gentleman, _Addilyn_.”

Tugging slightly at her arm, Lemuel eased her into a slow dance, somehow able to keep time without voicing it.  His steps were light and graceful, his movements as fluid as the water that flowed down from the mountains in small streams.  His seemingly natural poise was enviable, almost making her want to punch that smug smirk off his face as he led her in a slow and steady waltz.

“I’m sure Rector Adelier will be relieved to hear that his brother at least doesn’t pretend to be something he’s not,” she said, somehow managing to keep her voice steady.

Lemuel merely scoffed, pushing her out in a gentle twirl.  “The good rector would likely choke on his own tongue were he to see me now.  His own brother dancing alone with a fair maiden beneath the light of a full moon, in full view of anyone who were to walk by.  Oh, the scandal that would be had.”  He tugged her back to him, stepping back into the waltz without missing a step.

Truly he was an infuriatingly talented bastard.

“‘Fair maiden,’” she laughed.  “I’m sure a semon woman is hardly considered fair.  Or even a maiden, if certain assumptions were to be made.”

He quirked a brow, amusement dancing in his golden eyes.  “Trying to tell me something, Theron?”

Addilyn merely rolled her eyes.  “Suddenly so formal.  Don’t get excited, Captain Adelier.  There is a reason I used the word ‘assumptions.’  Do you truly think I’d be so bold as to come on so strong to my commanding officer?”

Lemuel merely shrugged, that telltale, charming smile of his firmly in place.  “A man can hope, can’t he?”

For a moment, Addilyn thought her heart had stopped.  Surely he was joking.  Captain Adelier was, among many things, the biggest wiseass she had come across in the Lions of Mercy.  Surely this was yet another jab to knock her off balance, make her falter in her steps so he could chide her on her piss-poor footing.

But, if she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn there was a flash of disappointment in those golden eyes.

An oppressive silence fell over them, the chill air a welcome reprieve on her flushed face, the only sound between them their quiet steps and slightly labored breaths, before she spoke again.  “You’re awfully good at this, captain.  Wherever did you learn to move with such grace and poise?”

A smirk crossed his features.  “You’d be surprised just how many ghers gatherings I’m forced to attend at my brother’s insistence.”  He stooped her into a sudden, low dip, his face now hanging low and directly over her own, his lips little more than a breath away from her own.  Never before did Addilyn think she would be grateful to be supported by the Captain’s strong arms, but she sure as all hell was now, otherwise she’d have fallen flat on her back as her knees gave out.

_Oh, no._

“He just insists on pushing me on every eligible bachelorette in attendance,” he continued, his brow raised in what she could only interpret as a challenge.  The corner of his lips twitched upward in a knowing smirk.  “And one of the best ways to get to know a woman at those dreadful parties is on the dancefloor.”

In one, smooth motion, Lemuel heaved her back to feet, his hold on her lingering for but a moment longer before he pulled away, bowing deeply to her at the waist.

Addilyn stood there, her face hot to the touch and clearly much redder than it had been when they started out.  “You souds have a weird way of courting,” she somehow managed, sounding breathless.

The captain straightened, that playful glint in his eyes returning.  “A semon would think so.”

Addilyn laughed despite herself, though it came out far weaker than she had hoped.  “Well, captain, I may not have a patrol in the morning, but something tells me there’s gonna be a sparring session or two in the very near future.”

Lemuel extended his arm in front of him, gesturing for her to follow him.  “You know me so well, Theron.”

The whole way back to the barracks, they spoke idly of the coming week and what was to be expected, but no amount of trivial banter could keep away the memory of his hand around her own, the feeling of his torso flush against her, the strength in those arms as he dipped her low and held her close, the light of the full moon dancing across his golden hair.  As he bid her goodbye, tossing her an impish wink for good measure, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder if this night would linger in the captain’s memories as long is it would hers.


End file.
